The Girl Behind the Glamour A Modern Faerie Tale
by jessxreality
Summary: A mythical retelling of Cinderella that follows the troubled Lise through monsters, faeries, drugs and love.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story, even though it can be read as a stand alone story is interconnected with another story I am writing at the moment. Neither story is set before the other, but rather at the same time, in the same fey world, just in different places with different people. However they do connect and each character meets the other, so reading it together gives more of an insight into each of the main characters individual stories, but is in no way a requirement. **

**Should you wish to read both, this is the link to _The Monster in the Mansion_: ** /s/607 5889/1/The_Monster_in_the_Mansion_A_Modern_Faerie_Tale

**Just remove the two spaces in the link and copy and paste the URL. If this doesn't work just go to my profile and find the story. **

**Thanks, Jess.**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

**Observation –**

(n) The act of observing or watching; taking a patient look.

(n) A remark expressing careful consideration; reflection.

(n) Facts learned by observing.

(n) The act of noticing or paying attention.

(n) The act of making and recording a measurement.

* * *

**Lise**

I'd always thought of myself as observant. But perhaps that's just wishful thinking. Because it wasn't really my choice to be observant. It wasn't my choice to see the things I see. Because I see things that aren't really there. Well, I suppose they are there. Just to others they aren't. I see the hidden world. The magic world. The world that doesn't exist, and hasn't existed, for all eternity. At the same time it has always been there. For so much longer than the human world.

So, unsurprisingly, I got dragged into the world. I'd always tried my hardest to stay away from it. To pretend it wasn't there, while also staying safe from it. That, I assure you, is a very difficult task. Trying to be a hero is harder than first thought. And there are always complications. Especially considering I'm not entirely human. Well, technically I am. It's my brain and eyes that aren't quite all human. That's why I see other things. Magic things. And the magic is always so intriguing. No mortal can help it. It's addictive. Like a drug. But so much prettier. But no mortal can survive being seduced and sucked in; they take everything from you. I thought I could survive, but I couldn't and it's the reason I'm stuck in my current situation.

It's also because I can see things that aren't there. But then. Even if I couldn't I would've been dragged in and killed, so perhaps it is better this way. No, I don't think so. Now I'm just another screw up. Like my mother. Waiting for something to save me. Something that won't come. I guess I should start at the beginning, which in reality is more of an end.

Just know, the start begins in a whole new world.

* * *

**Cinderella**

The Step-sisters watched the girl in the court with jealousy. She had the Prince. The beautiful magic Prince. After all the warnings they had received about dancing with the fey, here she was, dancing with _him_. And she may have looked like one of them, but behind her shield, she wasn't. And they knew it. They knew her for what she really was. And it wasn't a beautiful faery girl with emerald wings and yellow crystal hair. She was a street human with dirt smeared over her ratty clothes. A poor, pathetic street girl.

But no one could see that. They couldn't see past the beauty. But beauty didn't make it real – something that faeries would never understand.

"What is she even doing here?" the older sister asked the younger one.

"She was invited," the younger answered. She was mesmerised by the many dancing faeries. "She came to save us"

"From what?" The older sister was angry.

"From the fey. She says they're dangerous."

"But she's dancing with one?"

"She said she could survive it. Because she can see them for what they really are."

"Well, I think she's lying. And I don't care. If I want to dance with the faeries I will. She doesn't mean anything to me."

"No." The younger sister looked scared. "She said if you dance with faeries they will dance you to death."

"And you believe her?"

"Why not? She's been here before. She understands. We misjudged her before. With the dealer. She knows what she's talking about."

"I don't believe her."

"But look." The younger sister looked out to a small human girl, maybe twelve, dancing with a tall faery. The faery had black eyes and scales. The girl was alive, but only just. Her arms and legs were broken, but her face was serene, almost happy, like she was drugged and mesmerised by the beauty of the faery. The faery was throwing her around like a doll, her limbs flapping around her with sickening sounds, bending the way bones aren't supposed to. Then, the faery did a turn with the girl so fierce that her legs flipped up behind her. There was sickening crack of her spine then, she was limp. Her eyes were blank and he head flopped around her shoulders. Blood began to leak out of her mouth as the faery continued to play with the dead human doll. "She's right."

Suddenly the faeries didn't look so beautiful. Sure, they were still gorgeous, but there was an ugly, sinister underside that was obvious.

It didn't stop the jealousy.

The Prince was so beautiful both of the sisters couldn't help but feel some envy.

Even if the fear stopped them from acting on it.

* * *

**Glass Slipper**

The slipper was bloody. It wasn't glass. It wasn't even a shoe. But it looked like glass. Glass in her skin. Glass that glistened and flickered in the light. She looked at the sour red blood, it mirroring her face, and smiled. She could taste it in her mouth and feel it as it dried on her face. It tasted like rust and salt. A familiar taste. One that reminded her of her mother.

She'd never get the Prince and she knew it. She was mortal. Almost. But she wanted it all the same.

The iron burnt, and made her bleed. The iron bracelet she had tried again and again to put back on. To make her feel normal. But it didn't make her feel normal, it made her feel so much more isolated. It made her bleed over the tattoo on her wrist. The glass slipper. The reminder of her mistake. The reminder that marked her. That identified her. He'd be able to find her. He'd be able to find her because of this. The tattoo. The tattoo wasn't a glass slipper, but it was everything a glass slipper represented.

She hated herself for it. For wanting him. For how pathetic she felt now. For how sick she was.

And she knew he'd come back. He'd come back to kill her. She had his name.

And the worse part, she didn't care. She wanted him to come. She just wanted to see him.

She'd be happy to die in his presence. Even if it was him who killed her.

And that was why she hated herself.

**

* * *

Prince**

He'd have to choose. No. He'd already chosen. He'd have to tell his mother. About the girl who wasn't bound. She was free. Solitary. And so beautiful. As soon as he'd seen her with that human girl, he'd known. She was so different. So human. She felt so much more real that anyone else he'd met. She took away the haze of the magic and cleared everything. That was what he needed. That was what he wanted.

During the night he had marked her, so if she ran again, he would be able to find her. It would make sure that even if she did run. She would feel the pull. She would want to return. She wouldn't be able to help it.

"You cannot choose a peasant faery as your bride." Indy was always blunt. That was why she was such a good advisor.

"Then why are they invited to the coronation?" He was angry. Just the thought that he couldn't have her hurt him. It stirred up his fury.

"You know why they are invited. They are invited so they don't feel that they are being excluded. We hardly need a rebel uprising."

Of course he knew that. Present fey, on their own, the solitary ones, posed no threat. But if they were to join forces, they could easily take over the court. And that wasn't ever a good thing. The solitary fey needed to be kept solitary.

"I see no problem with taking one as my bride."

"Because the royal family only marries within the court. You know that. It has been that way for years."

"And now it won't be."

"Your mother very much liked the sylph you were dancing with. What was her name?"

"Theta. No. She holds no interest for me."

"And your little beauty holds no interest for the Fuyu Court. You can't marry her."

He knew this was true. He knew it. But he needed her. He needed her more than Indy could ever know. More than anyone could ever know.

"I don't wish to discuss this at length now. Leave me."

"Yes, sir," Indy said reluctantly. "Just know that you bring her to harm, should you ever marry her. Her wedding gown shall be the colour of her blood."

The Prince spun. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there are few fey who would tolerate a peasant faerie for a queen. Even if it means death for them."

The Prince shut his eyes. He wanted to block out the cruel fey world. It hurt too much, too often.

His father said he was too human. Too mortal. Perhaps he was meant to be a human. He never seemed to fit into the fey world.

And he could never see her dead. He knew that much.

"I will think on it," he told Indy.

Indy nodded. "I hope you change your mind. For her sake, if not the court's."

**

* * *

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – **develops after someone is exposed to an extremely traumatic event that caused him or her to react with intense fear, horror or helplessness. These traumatic events can include: war, torture, rape, child sexual or physical assault, physical assault, kidnapping, terrorism, natural disaster, major accident, being diagnosed with a fatal illness, or finding the body of someone who has committed suicide or been murdered.

Intrusive symptoms can include: distressing thoughts or images, nightmares, feeling or acting as if the traumatic event were reoccurring, intense psychological distress when exposed to triggers, and physical symptoms such as sweating, muscle tension and rapid heartbeat when exposed to triggers.

Avoidance symptoms can include: trying to avoid thinking or talking about the trauma, as well as any feelings associated with the trauma (sometimes drugs or alcohol are used to block out these memories or feelings), avoiding people, places and activities which trigger memories, not remembering the traumatic event, losing interest in activities once enjoyed, feeling detached, losing loving or joyful feelings and not being able to see a future.

Physical arousal symptoms can include: sleep disturbance, irritability or anger, irregular diet, impaired concentration, alert for signs of danger, always looking for possible threats and being easily startled.


	2. Squatting

**1. Squatting **

"The stories aren't true," the always-cynical Bobby said, utterly unconvinced. "The place isn't haunted."

"I agree," Stella nodded. "It's perfect."

"But Stella," Jazz moaned. "That dealer said there were ghosts."

I didn't know anything about ghosts, but I could see the traces of faery glamour on the building. This had been a place of faeries, but not anymore.

"Jazz, there aren't any ghosts," I told her. "They cleared out a long time ago."

Bobby and Stella gave me a look that said _don't encourage her._ Well, all I knew is that the stories had come from the magic the faeries had left, not from ghosts. I was just reassuring her.

"Really?" Jazz asked.

"Sure."

"Okay," Jazz nodded. Stella rolled her eyes. Bobby shrugged. The apartment block was large, and situated in a deserted area near factories and warehouses. At a guess, I'd say that was why no one wanted to live there. There was nothing around. It was just an empty block in one corner of the city. That'd be why it was deserted and un-sellable.

"So… how do we get in?" I asked.

"We'll try the front door," Bobby said. "Then we'll check the windows. If nothing's open, we can just smash something."

The whole place was brick, three stories high, with long windows spaced evenly on each floor. There were graffiti tags around the bottom, but they trailed away when the building got too high. We were standing on the asphalt that surrounded the building. There was a chain link fence that declared the building property of some bank that'd claimed it. We scaled the fence easily, carefully missing the points at the top. The fence wasn't quite iron, but it'd do well to keep most fey out. There were three steps that led to a dark brown door. The whole building was a dark brown, as if it were trying to blend in with the city. As if it were trying to hide. Bobby tried the lock. Unsurprisingly, the door didn't open. I mean, they didn't try too hard to keep people like us out, but they did lock the doors. Bobby pulled out a screwdriver and fiddled with the lock.

"Jazz, Lise, try some of the windows, will ya," he told us.

Jazz went to the window closest to the door. "It's been boarded up," she said.

"These ones too," I called, looking at each window on the first floor.

"It's okay," Stella called back, "we got the door open." Jazz and I made our way back to the front of the building. Bobby had already gone in, Stella holding the door for us. We walked through and adjusted our eyes against the darkness. It was night, but outside we'd had some light from the moon. Inside there was nothing.

"Are there any lights?" I asked.

"Nope," Bobby's voice came from somewhere to the left of me. "I could always try the fuse box."

"Good luck finding it," Stella said. Her voice was behind me.

"I'll try in the morning." Bobby's footsteps walked away. "There are stairs here."

I walked forward, and tripped.

"What was that?" Stella asked.

"Just me," I answered. I felt around the floor for what I'd tripped on. I picked it up and bought it close to my face. It was the remains of a torch. A wooden handle, with oil soaked cloth wrapped around the top. Definitely a trace of faeries. They must've used this place as a feasting hall or something. "Anyone got a lighter?" I asked.

"I do," Jazz answered, walking to me. "Where are you?"

"On the floor. Over here."

"Oh," she said, accidentally kicking me. "Sorry."

"Here, light this," I told her, holding up the torch. She did as I asked, the cloth bursting into flames. Light cut through the darkness, splaying flickers around the small lobby.

"What the hell is that?" Bobby asked.

I shrugged. "Just found it on the floor."

"Right," Stella said, "Jazz, can you get our stuff from outside. Since you have the light, Lise, you need to stay here until we've sorted out our stuff."

I nodded, but walked around the small lobby, exploring. There was a reception desk off to the left, covered in dust and dirt. I traced my name with my finger. I copied the style of the tattoo on my wrist.

Lise

I'd gotten that tattoo the day my mother had killed herself. On my ankle there was a tattoo of my mother's name. Etain.

My name is spelt like Elise, only without the E. And you say it like 'lease'. Yeah, weird, I know. Mum said she got it from some ballet she saw with her mum. She told me the story, but I'd always thought it was stupid. A girl and a guy (really surprising since nearly all ballets have a guy and girl) who fall in love (oh, yeah, another huge surprise) but the girl's mother wants her to marry some town idiot who has bucket-loads of money. The girl sneaks off all the time (hence why the ballet is called _La Fille Mal Garde_ which, in English, translates to _The Badly Guarded Daughter_) and in the end the mother sees how in love Lise is with her man and they marry. All ends well.

Me, on the other hand, I don't have an 'all ends well' story. Trust me. My story begins and ends with faeries. But then, it's always been about the faeries for me.

I guess it really started with my mother. She had the Sight. Basically, that means she could see faeries. Yeah, real live faeries. But no, faeries aren't cute little glowing things like Tinkerbelle that fit in your hand, grant wishes and dance around toadstools. No. Faeries are evil, crude and feral. They live off the misery and mistreatment of humans. Their entertainment, is us.

Anyway, anyone who has the Sight in generally pretty screwed up. Seeing faeries all your life can do that. But, if there is one thing my mother taught me, it's that as long as I pretend I can't actually see he faeries, they will treat me as a normal human. That isn't necessarily a good thing, but it's better than having your eyes torn out of your head for being able to see them.

So, my mother's story goes like this. She was a terror teen. Unsurprising since she'd always seen faeries and never understood the magic. She screwed around and drank and smoked and did all the drugs she could get her hands her on to try and drive the faeries away. The thing is, you can't get rid of the Sight like that. You only have the Sight if you have fey ancestry. Which means some faery screwed one of your great-great-great whatevers to produce a half faery-half human hybrid child. That means I have fey blood. Well, part fey blood. That's the only way you can have the Sight. Yeah, not fair, I know.

So, because my mother was a massive screw up, sleeping with any guy she could and smoking and drinking and injecting and swallowing anything and everything under the sun, she ended up with two things. Pregnancy and a drug addiction. The guy she was screwing ran when he found out my mum was pregnant. My mother's family kicked her out of home for the same reason. See, her father had also had the Sight, but he'd killed himself just after my mum's birth, so no one really knew about the whole the 'I see magical people' thing, and no one understood why my mum had become so messed up.

So, I was born on the streets, father-less with a slight drug dependency. Oh, yeah, my childhood was a scream. Mum and I lived all over the city, and it was literally my playground. I guess I'm lucky to have even survived as long as I have. Mum taught me all she knew of the fey. And that was certainly one of the few things I am grateful for.

She taught me how faeries can't lie and iron makes them sick. In fact, anything unnatural or human made makes them sick. You can never eat or drink any food offered by the fey. It gives them control over you, and you pine for it, which can be fatal more often than not. Nothing else will ever satisfy. You can't listen to faery music, if you do you'll become entranced and wither away over literally months. Dancing with fey is also dangerous. As is fey touch. Faeries are usually found in courts. Basically, it's a type of gang. They have their own territories and kings and queens. Most of the time they are at war with each other. There are a few courts I know of. The closest one, and the one this apartment block was situated in, was called the Fuyu Court. In the north there was the Natsu Court. East, Haru Court and west, Aki Court. Being in a court usually means you're born into it, or sold into it. It can mean you have protection, but it can also be dangerous, like most things in the faery world. If you're from another court and ask for a position in a new court, you have an even chance of being killed or accepted. It's risky. Some fey aren't joined to a court, usually that means they've been exiled or gone into hiding. They are called peasants. Or solitary fey. And, the most important rule, to have the full name of a faery means complete control of that faery.

There were a few customs of faeries that I was aware of, but I didn't have an intensely deep knowledge of the faery world. I'd looked in all the books and checked out the Internet at the library, but there was only so much truth in the myths. Mostly, I was on my own.

Oh, another thing. My mother killed herself the day I turned ten. We were living in a small alcove in an underground train tunnel. I woke and my mum was gone. Not so strange. The note on my pillow was.

It said sorry. It said selfish. It said I was old enough to look after myself. It said it loved me. It said it couldn't handle it anymore. It left me with three rules. It left me with nothing. Then it left.

I'd stumbled my way out of the train tunnel. In fact, I'd gotten half way when I stopped and sat. I'd wanted a train to come. I'd wanted it to kill me. But, as a light came on in the tunnel, signalling the train, I'd seen the left overs of my mother. Yeah, icing on the cake all right. I'd seen a foot with my name tattooed across the ankle. _Lise_. I'd seen the hand with her name tattooed across the wrist. _Etain. _I'd felt the blood and the flesh that'd been splattered all over the train tracks when my mother had sat in the same position. Perhaps she'd stood.

And that's when I'd gotten angry. And I'd decided I didn't want to die. I'd been so filled with rage I ran so fast out of that tunnel the sun blinded me. I didn't want to go like my mother. I didn't want to be pathetic like my mother. She'd just stood there and let the train squash her. She was so pitiable and weak and I hated her for it. For leaving me. She couldn't survive at twenty-six and she expected me to survive at ten. Sure mum.

Anyway, after that I lived on my own for a while. Then I found Stella and Jazz and Bobby. Stella and Jazz had lost both their mum to drugs and their dad had pissed off when they were young. Stella was fourteen when I met them, Jazz only nine. Bobby joined us a year or so later, seventeen at the time. He ran from home, his dad being a dickhead, beating his mum and him.

We were a family now. We squatted where and whenever it suited us. Doing what we could for food and drugs. I'm seventeen now, Jazz just turned seventeen too; she's only a few months younger than me. Stella's twenty-one, Bobby twenty-three. Stella and Bobby are sort of in it together, and look after Jazz and I.

But there's one thing that's certainly made things tense recently.

Bobby and I are also in it together. Stella knows, and hates me for it, but pretends she doesn't know what's going on. She's afraid of losing Bobby. Because she knows, technically, they aren't a couple, which means he's allowed to screw who ever he wants. Jazz also knows, but all she says is that he's too old for me. Six years. I guess that's fair – even if I have slept with guys way older. Really she doesn't want her sister to get hurt. She doesn't want me to get hurt either though, so she lets it slide.

So, anyway, I ended up finding a bracket on the wall that I slid the torch into. The heat was beginning to scorch my hand. The bracket I found had obviously been put up by faeries. It was silver and gold and intricately designed with what looked like medieval patterns. I guess more Celtic than anything else.

Because I can't see faery glamours, they sort of just look like a spider web to me. A thin transparent slightly misty cover. Like plastic wrap or standing behind opaque glass. That was what I could see in this place. Traces of glamour left over. Bits of spider web glamour in amidst the actual spider webs and dust. Just more traces of fey life. Mostly, there are traces of fey life everywhere. It can be annoying. It usually is.

Glamours are a covering of magic that masks real sight. It is sort of like an illusion that fey can put over themselves and over things to change the appearance. Imagine wearing a mask – that's what a glamour is like.

"Here," Jazz said with an exhale of breath as she dumped two single foam mattresses on the ground. Stella came in carrying a double.

"We can just sleep in this room for tonight and move around tomorrow. I'm tired," Bobby said, falling on the double.

"I thought we were going to go out tonight?" Stella asked, looking hopeful.

"Were we?" Jazz asked, naive as ever.

"Not _we_," Stella corrected. "Us." She pointed to Bobby and herself. Bobby stole a look at me. I shrugged slightly.

"Nah, I'm tired," Bobby said.

"Fine," Stella said, annoyed. "I'll go out by myself."

"I'll go with you," Jazz looked excited.

Stella rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll make it a girl's night. You in, Lise?"

"Um… I don't know. I'm kinda tired too." I kept my eyes away from Bobby. Not that it wasn't clear. Stella stiffened. But she wouldn't retract her offer to go out with Jazz. She didn't want to seem desperate or clingy.

"Fine." Her words were tense. Like they were on a string, being coaxed out of her mouth. "Let's go, Jazz."

Jazz gave me a disapproving look, then turned to follow her sister. "So, where are we going?" I didn't hear the answer because they'd shut the door behind them.

"So, what are going to do instead?" Bobby asked suggestively. "All alone. In this musty apartment block. There might be beds upstairs?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, lamely playing the hard-to-get act. Bobby got a kick out of it. "I'm sorta' tired."

Bobby stood. "Really. That's a shame." Then Bobby grabbed me by my thighs and pulled me into him, inhaling deeply into my hair. He kissed my neck once, and then began to take off his pants. I threw off my top.

"Stella'll be back soon," I muttered, breathing hard.

"So," Bobby answered. "She already knows. She's just too pussy to say anything. And that's fine with me."

"Sounds good," I said, throwing my legs around Bobby's waist, literally mounting him. He laughed. "Take me away."

"Anything for you, baby," Bobby answered, moving to the stairs.

We never actually made it up the stairs.

I woke up when I heard Stella stumble through the door. Jazz was holding her up. I was fully clothed, as was Bobby, and both sleeping on different mattresses. I stood, sleepily, and asked,

"What happened?"

"She met someone," Jazz answered. "Some guy. I think he gave her something."

"Really," I muttered sarcastically. I moved to Stella's other side. Her head lolled to me.

"Didya screw Bobby?" Her words were slurred, her eyelids fluttering.

"Well, she seems to be more assertive when she's off her head. Or perhaps just more stupid," Bobby said, not moving from where he was lying, only propping up on his elbows.

"Oh, just shut up, Bobby," Jazz shot at him. She was angry.

"What? Jealous you're not getting any, Jazz?"

"From you? Hardly." She was fuming. I hadn't seen her like this before. We put Stella down on a mattress, lying on her side. "Try to sleep, sis," Jazz said to her softly.

Bobby rolled his eyes. I gave him a look. "What's your problem now?" he asked.

"You being an asshole," I told him.

"Right, because I'm the only one at fault for this." He pointed at the passed out Stella. "Sex goes both ways, hun. You weren't under me without a choice."

"Don't be so god dam crude," I almost yelled.

"Oh, please," Jazz cut in. "Don't act like your innocent. And don't act as if that isn't true."

I was a little stunned she's spoken up.

"Thanks Jazz." That was Bobby.

She spun her gaze to him. "That wasn't a reprieve for you. I still think you're an asshole." She took a breath. "Couldn't you two just not… do it, for a while?"

"Why?" Bobby asked.

Jazz pointed at her sister. "Because you're killing her, you dickhead."

"Okay," I said. Jazz looked at me, seeming a little relieved. Bobby was looking at me as if I were crazy.

"No," he said. "I want you."

"Bad luck. I'm not going to jeopardise this whole thing for you. I've known Stella and Jazz for longer than you anyway."

"You're a bitch," Bobby muttered.

"I'm sure you'll survive."

Jazz danced around me as we walked up the busy city street. It was midday and Stella had woken up all right. She'd had a head ache, and a few regrets, but she was okay. Bobby was just sour. It didn't take Jazz long to forgive. She was a forgive-and-forget person.

"What do you think you'd be doing if your mother hadn't offed herself?" she asked casually.

"Probably the same thing I'm doing now, only my mum'd be in your place," I shrugged. It was mostly true. Except that mum'd be telling me faery stories.

"Do you know why she killed herself?" Jazz was always forward.

I shrugged. "It was too much."

"What was?" Ahh, the question.

I paused. Then, "The real world." Jazz nodded, as if she understood. She didn't. "It's too much for most people."

"Not for you," Jazz said. She did a skip and jumped out of the way of a businessman that gave her a resentful look.

I thought about this statement. "No." I looked at the street. "Not yet."

"Hey, look." Jazz ran to a storefront window. "Isn't that just so cute?"

It was a pawnbroker. In the front window there were various amounts of awful looking jewellery. Jazz was looking at a necklace. I wasn't entirely sure what she saw, but I saw faery jewellery covered with a glamour.

"Which one?" I asked. I guessed it'd be the faery necklace. The only problem was, I had no idea what she saw.

"That one," she pointed. It was obvious.

"Which one? I can't see it? What does it look like?"

Jazz rolled her eyes. "The silver chain. The pretty circle-triangle pendant."

"Oh," I said with a nod. It wasn't a circle-triangle. I could say that much. It was a jewel. A purple jewel in a gold pendant. At a guess I'd say it was cursed. Just waiting for some poor human to buy it as a gift for his girlfriend or mother. Then, it'd do something horrible, no doubt. It made me sick.

"Perhaps we could…" Jazz trailed off.

"You want to steal it?" My first thought was no. But I could always get rid of it. Perhaps save some poor chump from getting hurt.

"Why not?" Jazz asked.

"Alright," I shrugged. "Go for it. I'll watch your back."

Jazz grinned. We both entered the store, Jazz asking the clerk if she could see another necklace that was in the same cabinet, on the same display, but not the same one. The clerk, just wanting to sell, brought out the display, made of cheesy red velvet, and placed it next to him, passing the other necklace to Jazz to look at. I walked to the where the clerk had placed the other necklaces and picked out the one with the glamour. The clerk was too busy watching Jazz. Finally, after trying on the other necklace, Jazz decided against buying it. The clerk looked disappointed for a moment before he just looked bored, placing the necklace back on the velvet and putting the display back in the cabinet, locking it. We both said good-bye to the bored clerk, who responded with a grunt, then left the store. Too easy. Jazz was grinning ear to ear as we began walking towards down the street, towards the bay.

We got to the beach and she held out her hand. "Can I see it?"

I was hesitant. But it hadn't affected me by touching it, so it couldn't affect Jazz. I just had to make sure she didn't put it on.

"It's so pretty," Jazz said with a smile. She dropped it into her pocket as we continued our way along the beach. "Do you miss your mum?"

I thought about this question. "I hate her."

"How?" Jazz seemed not to understand.

"She was selfish. She left me alone at ten. _Ten._ No financial support or family. On the streets. She was weak and selfish. Pathetic. That's how I hate her. Very simple really."

"But you still love her." It wasn't a question.

So I didn't answer.


	3. The New Dealer

**2. The New Dealer **

I'd always looked like my mother. It was unavoidable. Whether I looked like my father I wasn't sure. I don't think it mattered. He was nothing to me. Sometimes I did wonder who he was. I figured it was where I got my eyes from. They were green. My mother's had been hazel. But I got my dirty blonde hair from her. And the pale skin. And the Sight. But I think I would have gotten that anyway. I think _that_ was unavoidable. Like looking like my mother. I hated that.

"Look at how pretty it is," Jazz beamed at the necklace. Stella looked it up and down.

"And useless." There wasn't nastiness in her voice, just a note of not really caring. "You could sell it. It's kinda weird."

"But I want to keep it."

"And do what with it? Lose it?"

"I won't lose it," Jazz said defensively. She slipped the necklace back into the pocket of her jacket.

Bobby snorted from the corner. "Just like you haven't lost everything else you owned illegally."

"Whatever," Jazz mumbled, sitting on a dirty couch. Bobby had gone hunting today and found two great couches, just sitting by the side of the street. He'd nabbed them and now we had a lounge room in the foyer. Jazz took off her jacket and hung it over the arm of the chair. Too easy. Through years of pick pocketing, I pulling the neck lace from the jacket while I was sitting next to Jazz. She didn't even notice. I'd throw it into the bay the next chance I got.

"And we have a new dealer. He's coming here today. Soon. After midday, he said," Stella told us. It was hardly surprising. We often had new dealers. Especially when we moved. The new apartment block, unsurprisingly, had no electricity, and so, no lights, but that wasn't a real issue. We usually went out at night. The one thing that the apartment did have was running water, and for that, we were seriously grateful for. It wasn't hot water, of course, but we hardly cared. It was water.

"What's he got?" Bobby asked.

"Coke. Well, that's what he said. We'll see."

Drugs, I didn't do. I had. Before. But not any more. It was too dangerous with my Sight. I had screwed up before and it left me in trouble. Lots of trouble. In a fey courts. And that, I'd promised myself, wasn't going to happen again.

"You going to do some this time, Lise?" Bobby taunted.

"You know I won't."

"More for us," Stella shrugged.

"Who'd look after you guys?" I smiled.

"That's true," Jazz grinned.

"Just once," Bobby tried to goad.

"Nope," I said with a shake of my head. "Been there. Done that. Not again."

"Is it cos' of your mother you don't do drugs?" Stella asked.

"Is it because of _your_ mother you _do_ do drugs?" I shot back, surprised at how quickly I'd become so aggressive and defensive.

Stella and Jazz both looked angry for a moment, but it passed. "Gee," Stella muttered, "Sor-ry."

"We got any food?" I asked, leaving the conversation.

"Yeah," Bobby answered. "White powder." He thought he was being witty.

I rolled my eyes. "Great. You think if we're able to afford coke, we could afford food."

"One or the other, kid," Bobby said. I hated it when he called me that. Bobby was the kind of guy who was good looking, but nothing to scream about. Especially considering the faeries I'd seen. And didn't pull off calling me 'kid'. He was tall, which I liked, with a lean sort of body. How he got it like that, I wasn't sure, especially considering I'm fairly sure he did nothing. His hair was dark and knotted, so it was basically in dread locks that flopped just past his ears. Ears that had metal studs ringed through them. In each lobe he had a large round stretcher, about as big as my little finger. When he took them out they, honestly, looked like a cat's ass. I thought they were gross. Stella, on the other hand, loved them. He also had two studs in his lip and one in his eyebrow, with a ring in the bridge of his nose. He had a tattoo of a large dragon up his left arm, and thick black markings – symbols and patterns – all up his back. They looked Aztec or something. He said it was a magic trick, and if you looked long enough you could see what it was meant to be. I have the Sight and I wasn't sure. I was pretty sure he was bullshitting.

Me, I just had the two tattoos. My name on my wrist, my mother's name on my ankle. Just reminders. A reminder of who I am. And a reminder of who she was. Who I didn't want to be. I had my ears pierced, which had mismatched studs in them, but other than that I was fairly clean. Piercings weren't my thing. I wanted to find a way to somehow get iron put in my hands or something, but I figured that my be a little dangerous. And faeries might get suspicious if whenever I brushed past one I burnt them. I wore an iron bracelet, that was rusted and thick, but I liked it. It did what I intended it too, without drawing too much attention.

Stella was into piercings. Jazz more into tattoos – though she didn't have any. She just liked looking at them. Stella was a short girl, who had a baby face; though you could see she was older in the way she breathed authority. Her heritage was somewhere in East Timor, her grandparents born there. They came over here with her mother. Her father was Malaysian. Anyway, that meant both Jazz and Stella had that delicate soft brown skin and deep coffee almond eyes. They were both beautiful, having round faces and dimples, giving them that cutesy look. I think Stella secretly hated it. Jazz secretly loved it. Stella had had her hair pulled back into tight braids that ran through her head in zigzag patterns, and she wore just simple non-descript clothing, with no jewellery. Jazz, on the other hand, had her hair out all the time, flailing about her head and face, as if screaming for help. And she wore perhaps a little too much homemade jewellery. By that, I mean anything she found on the streets. Bottle caps on string, black ribbon from the gutter, beer can rings. Whatever she could find. And she, so unlike Stella, revelled in the weird, freaky, strange and wonderful. I hoped on all hope she would never find out about faeries.

Then, a knock at the door. Stella got up and answered. That's how it worked. Stella contacted the dealer. Stella opened the door. Bobby dealed. Jazz and I stood in the corner, watching, silent.

As soon as the new dealer entered the house and I caught sight of him I freaked.

He was definitely a faery. He had black wings that unfolded from his back, a soft gold glow to him, and pale white skin. His eyes upturned slightly, almost elfin, and his ears pointed at the tips, definitely elfin. It scared me.

Even so, I kept my features neutral, just as my mother had taught me. It was the only way I knew. Bobby began to deal. But as soon as the faery showed his drugs, I stood and moved to Jazz.

"Hey Jazz," I whispered to her. Stella gave me a stern look. "What does that look like?"

Jazz gave me a confused look. "Coke." She said it as if it were obvious.

"White powder?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I muttered. If there was one thing I knew, it was that that stuff wasn't cocaine. It certainly wasn't white, nor was it a powder. It was bronze glitter. It shone and shimmered in the light, magic glinting off the surface of the particles. Magic. Dangerous for any mortal. This was bad.

I moved to Bobby. He stopped talking and gave me a look that said _get the hell out of here._ I didn't move.

"We don't want that," I told the faery. The faery looked at me, his cool white eyes narrowing. I couldn't see the glamour he'd put up; I only saw the silvery transparent film of the glamour, and what was under it.

"What?" Bobby asked acidly.

"It's been mixed," I said. "Not pure."

"I assure you it's pure," the faery said. He winked at me, voice smooth, cold and sinister. I internally shuddered. "You can try some if you're unconvinced."

"No!" I shouted, not meaning to. Everyone stared at me. The faery studied me. I kept my face calm.

"Why do you not want this?" he asked, the bronze magic sparkling on his palm.

"I don't trust you," I said.

"No," the dealer said simply, "you don't trust my type."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answered casually.

"What do I look like?" the faery asked me.

"I…" I had no idea. I couldn't see what the others saw. I only saw the faery's true form, and the film of the glamour, not the glamour itself.

"What's wrong with you, Lise?" Stella said angrily, pushing me out of the way. I stumbled away, still under the faery's gaze.

Jazz grabbed me and dragged me to another room.

"What the hell was that?" she asked me carefully.

"Nothing," I muttered looking away.

"Why couldn't you say what he looked like?"

"Because I see differently to you," I told her, staring intently.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know that coke?" I said, suddenly angry. Jazz nodded. "It's not coke. It's magic. A bronze glitter. Dangerous to mortals. We can't touch that."

"That's crazy, Lise," Jazz laughed.

"What did that guy look like to you?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "I donno. Asian, short, black hair with blonde streaks." She shrugged again.

"To me, he had black wings and white eyes with pointed ears. To me, he doesn't look human. To me, he's a goddamn faery. And a faery's most favourite leisure activity is screwing with human people. This isn't a good thing. And he knows I have the Sight. We need to move. Get away from this place. Out of the Fuyu territory."

"What are you talking about?" Jazz asked, looking afraid.

"It's dangerous. We need to move."

"We just did."

"Yes, but you have to understand…" Jazz was looking at me as if I were crazy. You know, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Who said the faery would actually come after me. I sighed. "Nothing. I'm being stupid."

"Sounds a little more crazy than stupid," Jazz answered.

"Whatever," I muttered. "You just need to make sure Bobby and Stella don't buy that coke."

"Fine," Jazz said, still not looking convinced. "Just stop acting like such a freak."

"Okay," I nodded.

"Come on," Jazz said, pulling me back out to the foyer.

I stepped out just as I heard, "You know," the faery began, "there's a party downtown tonight. At the abandoned factory off Simon Street. How would you and your friends like to come?"

"We can't," I interrupted.

The faery laughed, a twinkle in his eye. "Scared?"

"Only for my friends," I said, venom in my voice.

"Ridiculous," Stella said loudly. "We'd love to come. And don't worry, Lise won't be coming."

She said my name. Why did she have to say my goddamn name?

"Lise?" the faery said, glint in his eye. "Pretty name. And why wouldn't she wish to come to the party? Any pretty girl is invited."

"Lucky Lise isn't pretty then," Stella shot. Why was she so angry? And I sort of resented her for saying that.

"Well, if it suits you," the faery said, looking me directly in the eye. I held my ground. The faery smiled and nodded. Then, he turned, moving quickly, and left the house, walking just above the ground, literally on air, wings flapping ever so slightly.

I was left standing stiff, breathing hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stella yelled at me. "Just because you're too pussy to do a little coke, doesn't mean you have to stop us from having a good time."

"Oh yeah, well with that little package you'll be having a good time alright. It'll kill you."

"And how the hell would you know?" That was Bobby. Both Bobby and Stella had moved to one of the lounges. Stella carefully poured some of the glitter onto a nearby box. She emptied the tiny plastic bag and threw it away. Then, she leant over, about to snort some of the magic. I ran, dodging the couch and lunging towards the box. I kicked it, heavily, with one of my sneakers. The box flew up, hitting Stella in the head, the bronze glitter flying everywhere. It floated in the air like dust. I covered my mouth so I wouldn't inhale it. Then, blinding pain came across my face. To the left, then the right. Stella's hand was still in the air and it came again. And again. And again. Then, it stopped. Bobby caught Stella's hand and spun her away. She fell to the floor. Bobby knocked me down to the other side.

"You're gonna' kill her," Bobby said to Stella. Then to me, "You're a stupid fucking delusional idiot and if you do something like that again I won't stop her."

So that's what I get for potentially saving their lives. My face was burning, my head throbbing. I felt slightly dizzy, but entirely glad was on the floor. I couldn't fall any further.

Stella stood, looking furious. "You pick up every single tiny bit of that coke. And I'd better have a nice clean pile of it. If you do, maybe I'll let you go to this party."

"I don't want to go."

"Works for me," Stella shrugged. "We'll go by ourselves."

"You can't go."

"And why the hell not!" Stella screamed. I saw Jazz whimpering in the corner. Pathetic. It made me angry.

"Well, if you're going, I have to go with you."

"Don't even fucking think about it," Stella said with so much venom in her voice it scared me a little.

"It's not safe."

"And what? You're going to protect us?" Bobby snorted.

I was suddenly angry. They knew shit. "You've seen nothing compared to what I've seen. You know nothing about this world compared to what I know. You would run, terrified, if you saw what I see everyday. If you saw the cruelty that lives among us. That kills so easily and uses humans so readily. You all know shit. I just saved you, and all I get is blind anger. You're all stupid. And you're going to get yourselves killed."

"You're pathetic," Stella muttered.

"You're crazy," Bobby stared. "Piss off. No one wants you here."

"Fine!" I yelled, anger burning through me. "Get yourselves killed. It's hardly my problem. I was doing just fine without you. At least I didn't have to look after a pathetic bunch of no good humans."

And I left. 

It took me a while to cool down. The beach helped. I'd thrown that stupid necklace over the pier. Another way I'd saved them. Another something they'd never appreciate. Then, I hated myself. I hated myself for feeling sorry for myself. It was something my mother would've done. It was the something my mother allowed to kill her.

So, I changed my way of thinking. I needed to find someone to help me. And I knew where I needed to go. I'd heard whispers between the faeries of a peasant fey that lived close to the Natsu Court. He'd been human once, but he'd been cursed a long time ago. He possessed fey powers. I knew he could help me.

I caught the train out of the city to the small town in the middle of nowhere. It took an hour or so and I was impatient, bouncing in my seat, hoping a ticket inspector wouldn't find me. I got off at the station of the small town, and as soon as I did I found what I was looking for. It was a mansion, looking over the whole town, the fine film of a glamour covering the beauty. To me, it looked like a huge marble palace from another lifetime. It belonged in some Ancient Indian or Middle Eastern city. Not from this world. I wasn't sure what normal humans saw of the palace.

I weaved my way to the mansion, not finding it hard considering you could see the palace from the whole city. When I reached the street it was in, I saw the huge bluestone, iron pronged fence that surrounded it. At a guess, I'd say that was designed to keep out any fey from the Natsu Court. The fence had huge iron gates, which I had no chance of climbing, and I knew it. Instead, I found a tree to climb and jump my way over the bluestone. There was a huge path that led up to the marble palace, huge oak trees lining each side. Very gloomy. I loved it. I reached the door of the palace, passing a tinkling fountain and dragon figures, which guarded the steps. I knocked on the heavy wooden door and waiting. I wasn't entirely sure what this faery looked like, but I could guess.

Instead of the faery face I expected to open the door, I met the eyes of a human girl. She was pale, her eyes sunken in her face, looking gaunt. Long auburn hair that fell about her shoulders and contrasted her soft, creamy blue eyes. She wore simple jeans and green t-shirt with the words 'I AM REAL' as if she needed convincing. She was pretty, but she looked haunted and scared, as if everything around her was going to kill her, and she was nothing more than a fragile piece of glass. One touch could kill her. She was my age.

"I need help," I told her.

She nodded, not saying anything, waiting.

"I'm looking for River. I've heard that he has the power to help me," I finished.

"What is your name?" she asked. She had a soft voice, as if it'd been oppressed by something.

"Lise."

"I'm Giselle." Then she turned, beckoning me to follow. "Do you have…?" She didn't face me as she asked, nor did she finish her sentence. At the same time, she didn't sound hesitant. She sounded as if she had nothing left to live for. Nothing to be scared for. Nothing to be embarrassed or hesitant for.

"The Sight?" I finished. "Yeah."

"I see." She nodded.

"Why are you here?" I asked, unsure if I was being rude.

"I work for River," she told me.

"By choice?"

"Hardly," she muttered. Oh. She was a human slave. Either sold into work, or taken and blackmailed. I felt instantly sorry for her, but there was little I could do. I had the Sight, but I wasn't magical myself.

Giselle led me through the many halls of the palace, each one decorated with paintings of maidens, or landscapes seen through water, or glazed glass. They were very beautiful. Giselle looked at them as if she resented them. She took me to a drawing room in the back of the house, knocking before entering. The whole house was pretty amazing, entirely made of marble, cold and sinister, but also very beautiful and enchanting. Very faery.

"This is Lise," she told the figure I couldn't see. "She needs help."


	4. The Marble Palace

**3. The Marble Palace**

Giselle moved and I caught sight of the faery behind her. He was tall, and as he stood he cast a shadow over Giselle. His skin was a translucent white, veins a dark blue under his skin. Unnatural jet black hair covered pointed ears and made his marble blue – only blue – eyes seem neon. Ridges, like a lizard, replaced his eyebrows, and the corners of his eyes tilted up, like a cat. His lips were a deathly cold blue, like a corpse, and calluses covered his face and neck. I couldn't really determine age, but he looked no more than twenty-five or so.

On the upper left arm, near his shoulder, was a silver metal band made of many smaller entwined bands all joined to form a very ornate pattern. On the right arm was another metal band, only this one was on the forearm and wrapped itself from the back of his hand up to the elbow. It was only one band of metal, but it had patterns and swirls carved into it with the utmost detail. He wore a simple pair of black pants and a shirt – too casually human for a faery. He didn't like fey clothes. That interested me.

"Lise," the faery extended his hand. Behind his deathly blue lips I could see small pointed cat teeth and a black tongue. "I am River."

I took his hand. "Yes, I know."

"Giselle," he said, sitting, and gesturing for me to sit in a chair opposite, "perhaps you could get us some refreshments."

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "I don't eat fey food."

River gave a soft laugh. His voice was heavenly and cool; it didn't belong to the morbidity of his face. "I do not eat fey food either. Giselle will prepare human food. You have no need to worry."

"I see," I answered. Giselle left the room and I inspected it quickly. There was a small coffee table and two chairs, which we were sitting on. More paintings were hung on the walls. Almost all of them with a maiden in a beautiful purple gown, looking into the distance. They all seemed haunted. Like… Giselle.

"You are not scared of my appearance," River said once Giselle had left the room. It wasn't a question. "That leads me to believe you have the Sight. You have seen more than me. Correct?"

"Yeah. And your house is really cool," I told him.

"Yes, it is something of a masterpiece."

"Anyway," I said. "I really need to hurry. I don't have much time."

"I have a feeling this has something to do with the Fuyu coronation ball that begins tonight," River concluded. He stared at me as if trying to figure me out.

"You don't mind helping a human?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Not when I have a use for you. As your payment."

"Oh, okay. That sounds fair. You hear my terms and I hear yours," I offered.

"Fair."

"Yeah, you're right. It is to do with the ball tonight. My friends and I were invited to some fey party in the city. I don't know anything about it except that a faery came to where we're living and invited us, after selling us magic dust as cocaine."

"You didn't take any of it, did you?" River seemed suddenly alarmed, almost scared. "The magic?"

"No, I stopped my friends from taking it. They hate me for it, I can tell you that now." I gave a bitter laugh. "But now they're going to this party. I tried to stop them, but it didn't work."

"I see. Humans are often invited to feasts such as this. It provides entertainment."

"Yeah, I know. So I need your help. I need to get into the party. But I can't let anyone know I'm human. Or that I have the Sight."

River nodded, considering. "I do have a potion you can take. One mouthful allows you to produce faery glamours. It will last until dawn, should you take it at sun down. But if you are considering going to this party, I seriously advise you not to. Fey courts are dangerous themselves. Fey food is also hazardous, tempting. Even if you have a faery glamour."

"Yeah, think of how tempting it will look to my friends."

River nodded, regretfully. "Yes, I understand." He sighed, still looking at me carefully. "Well… if you are sure, I must tell you of this ball. The Prince of the Fuyu Court is to be crowned in three days. The ball will continue for three nights. The Prince is to find a queen in that time. Faery maidens are coming from many different courts for a chance at being queen. Also, many peasant maidens – solitary fey. You can play the part of a peasant easily enough."

"Okay," I said nodding.

"They should accept you. Although, it is dangerous."

"Yes, I know," I told him. "I've been to fey courts before."

River nodded. "As you are surely aware, mortal promises mean little to me, so I will need payment now. If you die, I shall not be happy."

"I understand." The brutality of the faery world wasn't something to dwell on; I'd been exposed to it before often enough. "What do you need?"

River paused. "Information."

I frowned. Couldn't Giselle get that for him? "What kind of information?"

"I need to find out about the family of Giselle."

"Okay…" I waited for him to continue.

"I sense that her brother is sick, and I need to find out more. Their house is close. A street away. And I can not leave here in the sun, also the iron surrounding the mansion is painful."

"Yes, I understand."

"It will not take long. You should be finished before sundown. It will give you time to get to your friends."

At that moment Giselle entered with a tray. She looked so tired. River stood. He regarded her for a moment and I almost felt as if I were intruding. Giselle looked up and they caught each other's gaze. A look of pain washed over River quickly and left just as fast. I could have easily persuaded myself to believe it wasn't there at all. But something on Giselle's face made me realise there was something else going on. She… wanted him. At first, it made me a little sick. To think of River… violating her, a beautiful human girl. And she was beautiful, even if it had faded underneath the terror of River. But then I saw something in River's expression. He cared for her. And he hated himself for that. For what he'd done to her. It was why he wanted me to check on her family. There was more than just a slave-master relationship. There was a lot more.

It just made me wonder. How could a human fall for a faery? They were so… cool. Cold. Scary. Not natural.

The moment passed and Giselle waited. River handed me a sheet of paper. I assumed it had the address on it.

"This is where you must go. If no one is there, follow any trail you can find. You will not receive your payment without any information."

"I understand. Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet. I have not given you anything except an address." River paused, looking at Giselle who was still in the room, standing stiff. Her gaze was off in the distance, looking at one of the paintings on the wall. I wondered if she could see what the maiden in the painting could see. "Giselle, could you please lead our guest out. This place can be a trap."

"Don't I know it," I heard Giselle mutter under her breath.

River turned his head sharply, but didn't say anything.

"Thanks," I said again, to no one really, just out of habit. Giselle left the room, not looking back to see if I were following.

"Why weren't you scared of him?" Giselle asked as she guided me out of the house. She stared ahead.

"I've seen a lot worse than him," I told her.

"You've had the Sight forever?" she guessed.

I nodded. "My mother and grandfather killed themselves because of it."

"I had fey blood injected into me. I have the Sight by accident. My human sight was stolen from me," she said. She didn't look at me, her voice monotone.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I."

"Perhaps, now that you have the Sight, I could give you some… tips, on the fey world," I offered.

Giselle stopped, turning, considering me carefully. "Why?"

"It's the only way I can think to help," I answered honestly. Giselle nodded slowly. "Well," I began, "fey don't like iron. It will kill them. They can't lie. They can trick and deceive, but not lie. It often makes them more dangerous. Fey food will also kill. Humans can't eat it. You will become trapped if you do-"

"Am I not already trapped?" Giselle said tonelessly.

"Well, you eat fey food and the fey have complete control over you. It would be worse than now."

Giselle bobbed her head. "Anything else?"

"Dancing with faeries can be dangerous. They will often dance with humans till death. Though usually those with the Sight are affected less. And, faeries dislike humans immensely. Usually they are used as toys. Or more accurately, amusement."

"Yes, I'm entirely aware of that." Again, she was toneless. That scared me. Could River have… raped her?

"Has River ever…?" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

Giselle's eyes seemed to flick open, even though her eyelids hadn't been closed. "No." She knew what I meant. "Only in my nightmares."

Suddenly, we were back in the foyer I'd first entered the creepily beautiful mansion. Giselle nodded towards the huge wooden doors.

"I'll be back soon." I said it as if I were reassuring her. Giselle still just looked distant. She nodded.

"Be… safe. This is Natsu Court territory. Don't piss off any faery. I've heard the Natsu Queen isn't forgiving."

"Yeah, I know," I said as I pushed the door open. "I've met her.'

The house that the address led me to was just the average suburban house. Brick, with a few bedrooms, living room with a large window looking out onto the street, and a carport. There were no lights on, but it was still light out, so it wasn't that strange. Though there was no car in the driveway or parked on the sidewalk in front of the house. This led me to believe no one was home.

I walked up the driveway to the front door and rang the doorbell. It didn't work. I knocked. Three times. There was no answer. This was also supporting my case that no one was home. I walked around the outside of the house, looking for windows that were open. I didn't find any. This annoyed me no end. It meant I was going to have to break in. I went back to the front of the house to the door and took out my lock picking tools I always kept on me. And no, I wasn't a kleptomaniac; you just never knew when you needed something that happened to be behind a locked door.

It didn't take long to break into both the fly wire door and the heavy wooden door. Soon I was softly padding along the wooden floorboards. I didn't turn on any lights, but it was hardly necessary, it was fairly light. I found my way to the kitchen, looking for anything that may indicate where Giselle's family could be. I found a picture hung on a white wash wall. It was framed in black, the picture one of those ones that families took. You know, the blue background, the father standing, the mother sitting, children beside her, everyone wearing smiles that said 'I don't want to be here'. A pang of want hit me, but faded fast. What I noticed most was the gaping hole in the picture where Giselle had previously been. I guess only someone who knew would actually notice it, but that didn't change much. It was still there.

Then, I noticed a letter sitting on the kitchen table. I picked it up and studied it. The envelope had been ripped open hastily, the letter crumpled just slightly. In the corner of the left hand side was the logo and name of the local hospital. River had said that the brother had been sick. Perhaps sick enough to be put in hospital. I read the letter quickly. I guess you could say skimmed. I'd always been able to read, my mother had forced me to learn how to read, but I'd never liked it.

Giselle's brother's name was Adam. The letter was test results. From a few weeks ago. It basically said the doctors weren't sure what was wrong with him and he'd have to be admitted. Well, at least I had a starting point. I left the ghost house quickly, locking the door behind me. I went to a neighbour's house to ask for directions to the hospital I was looking for. It turned out it wasn't far, and for that I was grateful. My feet hurt and it was quickly getting darker. I caught a bus to the hospital and arrived there fairly quickly. I walked in and was immediately confused. Hospitals always managed to confuse me. I found a desk with someone who looked like a secretary. She looked like she was playing solitaire on her computer. I tapped on the counter, making her look up.

"Hi," I said, as she looked at my street style with a disapproving scowl. "I'm looking for someone."

"Is that right?" she asked in a high nasally voice. It irritated me.

I gave Adam's full name and waited while the woman typed a few things on her computer. She looked a little annoyed that I'd interrupted her solitaire game.

"You can't see him." She didn't offer any other explanation.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because he's in ICU."

"Intensive care?" I clarified.

The woman nodded. I noticed her name badge. Clara.

"Don't they only put dying people in intensive care?" I asked. I wasn't any genius, but I knew what 'intensive care' meant.

The woman scoffed and shook her head. "No. We put very sick people in ICU so we can get them better."

"And Adam. Is he getting better?" I asked.

The woman frowned. "I can't just give out information on patients to anyone who walks in here off the street."

"I'm his girlfriend," I lied. I made my face look sad. Or tried to anyway. "He hadn't called in weeks. I didn't know what had happened. I thought he'd just dumped me. Then, his best friend told me he was in the hospital. I just want to know how he is." I took a few breaths as if I was about to burst into tears.

"Okay, okay," the woman said, looking frantic. "I'll tell you how he his, but I can't let you in to see him. Only family."

I nodded meekly. Clara tapped on her keyboard some more and said, hesitantly, "No, he's not getting better. He's been getting worse. The doctors think he's got a virus, but they are unsure. It's shutting down his organs. If he keeps declining the way he is he'll…" she trailed off, leaving the unsaid word hang on her lips. I didn't need to hear it. I covered my hand to my mouth, and let out a sob, then turned and ran out of the hospital entrance. Once I was at the bus stop I relaxed, quite proud of my performance. Not so proud of the news I had to bear.

I made my way back to the mansion as fast as I could, sprinting from the bus stop and up the drive. I got to the door and knocked, not having to wait long before Giselle opened the door.

"Couldn't stay away?" she tried to joke. It sounded wrong. She looked flustered and scared. Something had happened. Something I'd missed.

"Don't mean to be rude, but I don't have much time. Please."

Giselle just nodded, not saying anything. She turned and once again led me through the labyrinth of halls and rooms. I was taken to a room much closer to the entrance this time. But again, it was a small drawing room. River was sitting in a large armchair, a small glass bottle placed on the coffee table in front of him. The liquid inside was a vile black, almost looking like syrupy ink. But, even though the black was viscous and thick, rainbow colours filtered through in the light, just like an oil slick, the magic making me dizzy.

"I have held my end," River said, nodding at the vile in the table, "now you must hold yours."

"I found out…" I paused, checking to see if Giselle was anywhere behind me.

"She has gone to her room. Please, continue."

"Well, her brother is in the local hospital. And he's sick. Really sick. The doctors think he has a virus, but they aren't sure. He's in intensive care. His organs are failing. They think he's going to die."

River hung his head, closing his eyes. He took a few breaths then looked at me again. "Thank you. You've done well. You deserve your payment." River picked up the vile and held it out to me. I didn't take it just yet. "There are four mouthfuls in this vile," River said carefully. "One will last one night. I have given you four just in case something goes wrong. Be careful. I take no responsibility for what happens to this after it has left my hand."

"Thanks," I murmured.

"And be sure not to eat any fey food."

"Trust me. I know."

"Also, it would be best to stay away from any royalty."

"I understand."

"But if the Prince asks you to dance, you can not refuse."

I gave a look. "Why not?"

"Because you are there to dance with the prince. If you reject him, it could provoke him."

"That makes sense." I nodded. I took the vile from River's hand.

"Also, the faery glamour means you will not be able to touch iron, which means that bracelet you wear. You can still lie because that's a mental effect, not a physical one."

"Okay, thanks for the head's up." I got ready to leave. But at the last moment I turned to look at River. He was watching me carefully. "And, if you really care for Giselle, let her see her brother. She needs it. She's fragile."

River looked angry for a moment. But then he just looked tired. "I know," he breathed out. "I am a monster. I do not deserve her." He was talking to himself now. Then, his gaze returned to me. "Do not worry. I hate myself for it."

"I know."

_Jasper Park, to the mortal eye, would seem like the usual park found in the middle of a small town. A few creepy looking gnarled trees that were probably a hundred or so years old, a bench or two, a few old pieces of playground that are never really used. To me, it looks like a creepy-ass faery court. Although, that is exactly what it is. I am almost too scared to go in. But then I remember my pathetic weak mother, and how much I don't want to be like her. I will go in there. I will face everything my mother couldn't. I will face the real world. Stella and Jazz don't know where I am. Not that I care. If I do end up trapped in this godforsaken world, there's little they can do about it. _

_The moment I enter the court, a tiny sprite buzzes to my ear. The sprite isn't quite human looking, although it does seem to have all those distinguishing human features. It has a long body, but its legs aren't human; they are thin and wiry, the feet clawed. The body is skeletal, and looks as if the skin has been stretched over the bones to fit. Its arms extend out into two leathery black wings, delicate and membranous. The head is small and rounded, with sharp canine teeth pointing over the bottom lip. It looks like a bat. A tiny, minuscule bat with human features. _

"_I'm Enda," she whispers in my ear. "Follow me."_

_She zips away, and I follow her. _

I am taken deeper and deeper into the park, and it seems to just become darker and darker. Trees bend over me, almost protective of me, the way a dog would be of a piece of meat. Then, through the trees ahead, I can see light. Light streaming through he gaps of the trunks like it is bursting to get out. But it isn't a warm, kind light. It is a harsh winter light, like sun reflecting off snow. Maybe this is not such a good idea, I re-think. But I still follow. Enda and I burst through the clearing, and I'm suddenly surrounded by faeries.

Their beauty mesmerises me. Images are burnt into my eyes, and I see nothing but cool colour and flittering lights. The haze of drugs clouds my vision more so and nothing is still or permanent; everything constantly changes. I lose all bearings as faery magic washes over me. I don't even know which way is up or down. I feel hands on me. Sometimes lips or silk or hair.

_My judgement has run away, and when a cold white faery offers me fruit, I take it. With only one bite I feel pleasure rush through my body like a spasm. My legs collapse, and I giggle, falling into the soft earth. Hands pick me up, and carry me away. I am licking the juice from my fingers, wanting more. I am placed on the ground, and my back feels cold and wet against the dirt. I want more fruit. I struggle against the hands the hold me. It's the cold faery. He's tall, his skin so pale white, he looks like a snowstorm. He straddles my waist, and my body tingles. _

"_Hush, my dear," the faery says to me. I am soothed by his voice. He hands me a small grape. I squash it in my mouth, letting the juice run over my lips. I hold my hands out like a child begging for more. Another grape is placed in my hands. It's gone in an instant. I ask for more. The faery shakes his head. "Now, I get what I desire, then you may have more."_

_I can only nod. I don't care what this faery does to me as long as I get my fruit. The faery runs his hands over my sides, and I feel his magic brush over me. I groan, all thoughts leaving me as the faery magic forces me to enjoy his touch. The faery rips open the shirt I am wearing with his teeth, which I can see now are pointed and curved, like small elephant tusks. Next, he removes my pants, and I shiver as I can feel this faery's magic even closer to me. The faery undresses slowly and deliberately, feeling my body, and teasing me with his magic. _

_He puts a grape in my mouth, and everything in me explodes._


End file.
